


Of Shadows And Cinders

by TheLeavesAreCinders



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Gay Panic, Hate Sex, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Torture, Love/Hate, M/M, Mentions of the Inner Circle (ACoTaR), Minor Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Azriel (ACoTaR), POV Multiple, Panic Attacks, Porn with Feelings, Slow Burn, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Autumn Court (ACoTaR), Topping from the Bottom, Training, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:07:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29850258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLeavesAreCinders/pseuds/TheLeavesAreCinders
Summary: The Courtier and The Spymaster, a son of fire and a son of shadows, a male who thrives in secrets whispered at glimmering ballrooms and another one who finds them under the edge of his knife. Both wear masks, the males beneath them unknown to the other.Azriel has spent centuries plagued by the memory of Mor’s wounded body at the Autumn’s Court border, his hate for Eris only growing stronger with each one of his visits. Now, after rescuing him from the influence of the Crown, there seems to be a tentative peace between the Inner Circle and their ally in the Autumn Court- a peace still threatened by the secrets between both Courts. So when Eris appears at the House of Wind’s doorsteps asking for help, Azriel sees the perfect opportunity to discover more about the red-haired male and his true motives… as well as his role in the shadowsinger’s own present and past.
Relationships: Azriel/Eris Vanserra
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	Of Shadows And Cinders

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! A wild Azris fic appeared! 
> 
> I personally love this pairing, I think they have an amazing potential and that TENSION is wild.
> 
> Very "Fuck you" "Fuck me yourself you coward" and "Putting a knife under your enemie's jaw and making them look into your eyes" vibes, you know?
> 
> Also, both have issues they need to work through. Let's hope they manage to do so when you put them together.
> 
> Anyways, this is my first fanfic and English is not my first language, so feel free to leave some comments below! I accept either praises to feed my ego or constructive criticism so I can improve my writing out of pure spite.
> 
> The first chapter occur during ACOSF, afterwards the plot moves forward.
> 
> Enjoy!

Azriel was seething.

One of his shadows curled over his shoulders, whispering into his ear that _Cassian hadn't taken his eyes off from the dancing couple since the moment the music started. His shoulders had stiffened. Take care._

The Shadowsinger clenched his jaw, a rush of memory blurring his eyes for a second. He could understand his brother, the line of tension climbing up his spine and making his wings lift and hold steady- his silhouette bigger, more intimidating. He could understand the twisting in his gut at seeing Eris- that scheming, worthless male- touching his beloved, his _mate_ , in such an intimate way. The autumn male was currently dancing in the center of the room, one hand clasped on Nesta’s and the other one caressing her back, chasing the skin left exposed by the lines of her dress. Both dancers were encased by the music, framed by both sound and the fluttering black fabric of their clothes. One twirl later that union was completed by their eyes, reflecting each other’s golden and silver fire. Not even five minutes before he had been looking that very same way at both sisters, his eyes gliding over Nesta’s indifference and instead assessing Elain, who had tried to create a front of interest after Feyre’s cautious coaching the previous day.

Azriel had been unable to shake the image from his head since then.

His fingers hardened over the leather that covered his bicep, masking his irritation in the shadowy fold created by his crossed arms. His face was frozen in the vacant mask he and his family always donned in the Court of Nightmares, providing a shield between his thoughts and the exterior world. He knew that in this throne room every one of his actions, down to the twitch of his wings or the swirling patterns of his shadows, would be observed and analyzed in the hope of finding and exploiting a weakness. That night, however, maintaining a perfect composure was proving to be harder than expected. And it was all the Heir of Autumn’s fault, his presence having been felt through the Inner Circle’s bonds like a ripple. Mere minutes ago, it had taken everything in him not to snarl at the red-haired male, at the entitlement in those eyes that seemed to coolly evaluate every little thing around him. To judge them. Azriel’s eyes narrowed, a spike of pain piercing the center of his chest. To judge them and then throw them away.

_Cassian-_

His eyes snapped to the warrior at his side, his steps strong and solid as he crossed the dancefloor towards the dancing couple. Nesta’s eyes were glittering, already getting lost in the waves of music that had started to swirl around the room. In front of her Eris smiled, a glint of white showing between the lines of his lips. The music surged, the dancers twirling and stepping with the beat, starting to pick up the rhythm when-

Azriel couldn’t hear what words had left his brother’s lips, but he could see the effect they had on the couple. Eris just turned his head, the other corner of his lips raising and exposing those white teeth with a snarl. Nesta just seemed… shocked. Like the music had left her spellbound and now, when its influence had lifted its weight from her shoulders she could see the world anew. Could see _Cassian_ anew. Another crack gouged itself between the Shadowsinger’s ribs, its sharp edges burrowing a little closer to his core. He closed his eyes, willing those cracks to freeze, for ice to settle in the hollow spaces the fissures had created and hold them together, to numb them.

When he opened them again, Cassian and Nesta were dancing together and Eris had disappeared. He sent a few shadows to make their patrol around the hall, a whispered command coaxing them into finding and following the red-haired male. He wanted to know every single one of his movements. He frowned, a few lines of worry pressing down the sides of his head. Even though he agreed with the benefits an alliance with the Autumn male would bring, he still felt guilt at the manner it had been executed. He could still picture the pain and betrayal in Mor’s eyes when she had discovered their plans, cornered in this cursed city in a meeting she had been essentially tricked into. There had been a light that had disappeared inside of her that day, a light that in all the following months had barely let itself be seen again. Another set of brown eyes flashed in his mind, bright and soft as a spring dawn. His frown deepened. He would do anything to keep those eyes from losing their light as well.

The last notes of the piece drifted and disappeared; their final echoes drowned by the polite clapping of the courtiers. Cassian bowed to Nesta, his untrained feet a little bit wobbly after the final speed of the dance but quickly gaining back their confidence. Azriel sighed, hundreds of years of experience telling him that the next piece would be a waltz. That very same experience also let him know that Cassian was under no way or form ready to face Nesta in that kind of dance. He walked around the crowd, stepping forward and touching his brother’s shoulder when he was close enough. He threw a quick smile at him, dipping his head softly in a bow towards Nesta.

“May I have this dance?”

She snorted, her silver eyes piercing Cassian’s under perfectly arched eyebrows. “At least _someone_ has manners.”

Azriel smirked, moving Cassian gently to one side and offering his hand to Nesta. “Don’t worry, what he lacks in manners he compensates somewhere else, I’m sure.” Out of the corner of his eye he could see his brother’s mouth hanging open, the warrior’s eyes moving from his mate’s face to the shadowsinger’s and back again. Nesta’s smile only grew.

“Oh, he is charming in his own way, I have no complaints about that.” Cassian looked like he was about to faint.

“I do recall hearing some very interesting exchanges between the two of you lately, I’m glad to hear you were left satisfied.” Now a choked noise.

“Oh yes, his company is extremely stimulating when he wants it to be.” Nesta’s smile was like a knife.

Cassian just raised a hand, one finger pointed at them. “You both. Are _horrible_.” And with that he turned around and stormed away, his stomping steps leading him towards the wine table. Mor was already there, offering him a glass. Azriel let out a laugh and turned his attention back to Nesta, both of them getting into position and starting to whirl gently with the first sweet notes of the waltz.

“I think I haven’t seen Cass so flustered since he lost that strip poker game against Amren.”

Nesta scrunched her nose. “Against _Amren_? I can hardly blame him for that.”

He snorted. “Oh believe me, she didn’t want to be there either.” Nesta just raised one of her eyebrows. “Have you ever seen Amren playing cards? She swore off them that day, still claims to be disgusted every time she even thinks about a deck.” Nesta’s lips curled, a little bit of the glow that had surrounded her face after picturing the scene faltering. He knew that something had gone down between her and the tiny immortal, something that had broken the tentative trust that had been built between them during the war. He didn’t know what words had been exchanged, what blows had shattered each other’s shields, but neither of them had looked at the other the same way since.

He cleared his throat. “So, what did he tell you?” Both of them knew he wasn’t talking about Cassian.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “The typical high-breed bullshit. How I was ‘wasted’ at the Night Court. How Rhys had been ‘hiding me away’”. She hissed. “I am getting tired of others telling me where I should be, what I should do. Who I should be, or be _with_.” The grey of her eyes turned to frozen silver as she lifted her gaze to his. “That includes Rhysand as well.”

Azriel hummed, lowering his head a little bit, his shadows covering one side of his face. He loved Rhys like a brother- he _was_ his brother, but he didn’t agree with the resentment he had felt for Nesta from the moment he had learnt about her relationship with Feyre. It just didn’t feel right to judge her for the actions of her past, actions they didn’t really know the full context of. He was not going to go against his High Lord- somebody who had long ago gained both his loyalty and love- but as far as he was concerned Nesta deserved to be treated like anybody else in the Inner Circle. Especially knowing how its members were, how they all had been broken at some point or other of their lives. How they all had managed to survive through it, to emerge victorious on the other side.  
His shadows caressed the back of his head, their cool tendrils soothing him and making him shiver. He consciously straightened his back, making sure not to miss a step in the dance that was still unfolding around them. He was about to open his mouth to keep the conversation going when one of those tendrils curled around his ear, letting him know the location of the Autumn’s Court male. He smirked down at Nesta. “Communication incoming.”

“Wha-.”

And then they were looking through Rhysand’s eyes.

Eris was standing in front of the dais, his hands irreverently hidden in his pockets. He was asking Rhys for his conditions in exchange for Nesta’s hand in marriage- Azriel felt her hand tightening her grip on his shoulder, pure rage trapped in those bones for being discussed in such a way behind her back- when some secondary presences let themselves be known. It seemed like the invitation to join the conversation had been extended to every single member of the Inner Court in the room.

Az kept moving slowly, rocking his body and leading Nesta’s to the rhythm of the waltz. He was pretty sure that Eris hadn’t realized that he had an audience, but he didn’t want to give him any excuse to suspect the full importance of the conversation, of how it had been scrupulously planned by the High Lord days before the events of the night. He felt Nesta picking up his silent signal, blindly turning and turning following the beat of the piece. Nevertheless, their attention was still focused on the red-haired male. There was something unsettling trapped between the gold of his eyes, a kind of shrewd cunning hidden under the surface layer of lust that clouded his gaze. It had an iciness that the shadowsinger was very familiar with, a depth of frost that kept the mind sharp and emotions numb. There was something different in his coldness, though. Instead of hushing with ice, it was like a slow-burning fire, laying what it touched to waste before moving to its next target. It didn’t have the quietness of frozen things, but the shimmering tension of leashed destruction.

The exchange between the red-haired male and the High Lord kept going for a while, with Feyre’s occasional comments peppered in while on the other side of the room Cassian’s fury and jealousy only grew. In the meantime, Az wondered about their ally’s motives. It was true that there seemed to have been a pull between Eris and Nesta during their dance, but that look of almost calculated lust led him to believe that there was something happening behind the scenes- at the Autumn Court, probably-that was pushing Eris into finding a bride. His jaw tensed, annoyed at himself for failing to discover what it was. It seemed like Rhys had not been the only one doing some planning beforehand. He concentrated on the woman in front of him, pulling his mind to the hems of their connected vision so he could see more clearly without leaving the conversation altogether. 

To the outside eye Nesta seemed slightly glazed, but not much different than when she had been lost in the music some time prior. A slight crease between her eyebrows told Azriel that she was experiencing somef internal turmoil, though. He couldn’t pinpoint its exact nature, but she appeared to be in deep contemplation of a new development. Azriel’s eyes snapped to Cassian, pure rage apparent on the line of his brother’s shoulders. She couldn’t possibly be thinking about accepting Eris’ offer. There was no way- there was no way that a pair of loving-as much as it seemed to pain them to admit it- mates just left that connection behind, not after finding each other. Not when their feelings were so clear each time they were together in the same room, how they seemed to hurt when they were apart. Azriel’s mind swirled. Something hollow and wrecked unfolded inside his chest, reaching for the walls of his ribs and the barrier of his throat, scrapping at them with claws that burned. The ice that was holding him together-that had been holding him together for a long time- cracked.

Then there was a spike of wrath coming from Cassian’s presence and the shadowsinger’s mind snapped back into the vision, held down by the bonds that connected them. That gaping corrosion inside of him settled under the pressure of the other’s minds, coaxed back into quiet. Just in time to see Eris calling Nesta his wife, his lips and eyes sharpening in a sneering smile. The hollowness left in his core froze, ice tendrils climbing up his spine, wrapping around each vertebrae and settling inside his bones. There were no more words after the end of the vision, but the deadly fire in Nesta’s eyes started feeding itself on the frost that now covered his senses, coaxing it into expanding into his body, encasing his throat and drowning his ears. Shadows zipped between them, going from one corner of the ballroom to the next and then returning to him, frantic. After the last note of the waltz Azriel bowed and left, not even sparing a glance to the other dancers.

Back to his original position at the side of the dais, Azriel stared unseeing at the ballroom. That male. That _entitled_ , fucking male. How dare he. How dare he come and take that who was not his, who didn’t _want_ to belong to him. A tension in his mouth increased, pulling his lips into a silent snarl. He could smell the rain, the heavy scent of rotting leaves seeping into rich soil. There had been tears in her brown eyes when he had found her, their tracks even more terrifying than the red paths the blood had drawn across her abdomen, as if it had been trying to rejoin its rightful course under her skin. Her nails had been soiled to the root, wrecked after hours of scratching the earth in an attempt of standing up. Of moving. Of _leaving that place_. And then she had- the moment she had seen his mouth open, all the words he had kept inside his heart ready to be set free, she had turned her back and disappeared. She had looked haunted, her face blank and eyes hollow, as hollow as Elain had looked when- _You are my mate_ , he had said, holding her. The son of Autumn, his hair glinting red and one mechanical eye widening and gleaming golden. As red and golden as the way Eris had looked under the candles, not even half an hour ago, when he had turned that poisonous attention on Elain. Elain, whose tears would also be worse than any spilled blood- _Enough_.

Azriel could not see.

There was a dun heartbeat thrumming on his ears, behind his eyes. He was moving through the edges of the ballroom merged in darkness, his vision composed of flares of light, their lines crisscrossing his shadows and marking a way. His breath left little droplets of condensation over frosting lips. There was a quietness in his path, a suspension of the soaring notes of music that joined the revelers during their dancing break, the crowds having retired to the tables full of refreshments. And there, seeming to attract all the candle flares, a red that shone like fire.  
He slammed him against the stone. His skin was scalding under Azriel’s icy hand, the bob of his throat creating a path of fire down his palm.

“Touch her again and I will kill you.”

He licked his lips. “Who?”

“You _know_ who.” His eyes were glassy under the candlelight, trapping the dancing flames on their reflective depths. They seemed to flicker with the volatility of their element, twisting and turning the same way he had done on the dancefloor. A wild companion, body fully in sync with his partner. Azriel growled. “You keep coming here, where you are not welcome. I would like to know the reason why.”

“Oh, that’s between me and myself, I’m afraid. And sometimes Morrigan, but I have a feeling you already knew that.” The roiling flames raised to an inferno. “Or rather, Cassian knows. Am I right?”  
Azriel stepped closer, hand sliding away and instead grabbing the base of his hair, the then empty space of his neck immediately covered by a forearm. He hissed. “Leave them out of this, they have suffered you enough.”

“Ah, not them then. I’m impressed, shadowsinger. Has the brooding executioner moved on at last?” He raised his eyebrows, leaning his weight against his arm and pushing it away. “It’s a shame, you know. Jealousy becomes you.” The bastard was enjoying this.

“You know _nothing_ of what happened back then. Don’t flatter yourself, Eris. We may allow you to roam these halls, but that does not mean that you know the first thing about us.” His smile was icy, its coldness at battle with the flames in the other male’s eyes. “You are not as important as you think.”

Eris snorted, one hand waving away his words as easily as breathing. “Is that the best you can do? I honestly expected better from a spymaster.” He was scanning the crowd, his scarlet hair sliding from the shoulder the shadowsinger’s hand had pushed it on to, glimmering treads in contrast with the black of his clothes. “So, if not her, who? It couldn’t possibly be Nesta.” A sidelong glance. “Unless you actually are into messing with my and Cassian’s leftovers.” He knew. The bastard _knew_ and still wanted to take her with him, to rip her away from Cassian and- “Although I understand the appeal, after all she looks absolutely enticing in that dress, not at all like her sister-” Blue syphons flickered, candlelight dimming under the weight of a sheet of shadows. Eris just smiled. “Oh.”

His lips were very, very red. His teeth as white as the bones they were part of. In Eris’ face, that smile looked like a knife wound, shining with fresh blood.

“So the sister, uh?”

“Do not dare put a hand on her.”

“Pretty, sweet Elain. As soft as morning dew, and equally as delicate. I wonder if she would taste like it when-” The shadows grabbed his jaw, jerking it upwards and forcing him to his toes. He clicked his tongue, grabbing the hand that had landed over the center of his ribs, pushing them inward. With a flick of his wrist, he was free again. “So violent.” He stepped away and into the light of the ballroom, the couples drifting again to the center of the dance floor and mingling together with the first notes of a new piece. “I will allow it, though. After all, jealousy _does_ look good on you.”

He was left in the shadows, hands cold again.

Azriel was seething.


End file.
